


An Initiate's Enlightenment

by StopTalkingAtMe



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Adventure, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-typical dragonslaying, F/F, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-07-25 01:50:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20024578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StopTalkingAtMe/pseuds/StopTalkingAtMe
Summary: In the Forgotten Vale, the Dragonborn and Serana manage to find a few moments of peace.





	An Initiate's Enlightenment

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sumi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sumi/gifts).



**An Initiate’s Enlightenment**

They came up along the snowy hillside, winding their way around rocky outcrops dripping with snow melt: two women weary from their long journey and wearier still with the knowledge that they had much further to go before they could rest.

The air was bitterly cold despite the sunlight reflecting off the glittering expanse of snow. The cheeks of the smaller women, the red-haired Breton, were chapped and flushed. Her breath steamed white with every exhalation, although the same was not true of her companion, who also seemed less fatigued by the arduous climb, a leather hood pulled over her face to shield her eyes from the light.

The Breton was compact and stocky, with heavily freckled olive skin a few shades darker than might normally be expected of her race, with unusual dark eyes and an angular cast to her cheekbones. She wore an Akaviri katana in a scabbard at her belt and carried a half-full ewer balanced on her hip like a small child. An awkward weight to carry and deliberately so, since this was intended to be a test of resolve, reverence, and patience.

Corinne had the first two: she just wasn’t quite so certain about the third.

It had been a while since they’d heard any sound other than their own breathing and the crunching of their boots in the snow, but gradually as they’d climbed another noise had gathered like an army marshalling its reserves, growing from a distant murmur to a ceaseless roar. As they reached the top of the slope, and the narrow path opened out onto a vast plateau dominated by a frozen lake, the roar proved to be a waterfall, a river bolstered by snow-melt surging down a sheer cliff of ice and plunging into the lake. A hazy mist wreathed the cascade, shimmering with rainbows, and Corinne fancied she could feel damp spray against her cheeks.

"It’s beautiful up here," Serana said, shielding her eyes. "It almost makes the climb worth it."

Corinne grunted and lowered the ewer, the water sloshing against the sides.

Serana cast her an amused look. "Don’t spill any. I’m not backtracking through that cave again."

"Don’t even joke," Corinne said, collapsing in the snow.

"Well, if any did spill, I suppose we could always fill the damned thing with lake water."

"I doubt it would work. We wouldn’t be the first to get the idea. I bet generations of Snow Elves have tried it before us."

"We could still try. Maybe this is meant to be a test of initiative and deviousness rather than blind faith. Would Auriel really care?"

"No," Corinne said. "But I would."

Serana sighed and sank down onto a rock. "Right. No mocking the Divines."

"Mock them all you like. The gods know I’ve said some choice words about Molag Bal in my time. I won’t take offence, and I doubt Akatosh will either–"

"Corinne."

"–But to try to _cheat_ a sacred ceremony like that–"

" _Corinne_."

She stopped.

"I was joking," Serana said, as patient as if she were talking to a child. Corinne sagged.

"I know you were," she said, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "Apparently I lose my sense of humour when I’m tired and the gods know how far from the nearest inn and bathhouse. Forgive me?"

"Always. I mean... you know." Serana grinned. "Depending on what it is you’ve done."

"Of course." She hesitated, squinting up at Serana’s dark silhouette. Her eyes felt like they were filled with grit, grinding against the eyeball with every blink. After the impenetrable blackness of Darkfall Passage, where neither a candlelight cantrip nor the guttering light of a torch had done more than pierce a few feet of darkness, she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to see normally again. "Look, if I thought filling the ewer up with lake water would work, I’d be tempted."

Serana gave her a wry smile. "No, you wouldn’t."

"Well… No. No, I wouldn’t. But I’d think about it. And then I’d curse myself soundly for not doing it." She paused, frowning. "Serana, my backside’s going numb. Well… numb- _er_."

Serana laughed, holding out her hand, and pulled her back up to her feet and out of the snow. 

While Corinne’s eyes adjusted to the light, she brushed herself off and tried to put her finger on the reason for the sensation of vague unease she’d felt ever since they reached the plateau.

Her gaze settled on what she’d first taken to be an outcrop of dark rock near the edge of the precipice. Snow lay banked against it, but now she looked closer she recognised the familiar curved shape, clearly recognisable the moment you began to suspect what you were looking at.

"Oh no," she whispered. Serana was following her gaze.

"Is that…?"

A word wall. A bloody word wall. And once she’d recognised it, she could no longer go on pretending to ignore the tension in her chest. It deepened and spread, an aching sensation that threaded through every part of her, making her heart pick up pace until it was beating in time with the pulse of alien power, in thrall to the rhythmic drum-beat of the wall. She’d already started toward it before she realised she was going to, barely aware of Serana following in her wake.

She clawed the piled-up snow away and found the place where the word had been etched into the stone with perfect precision, as if the word had existed first and the wall came into being around it. She tugged off her glove so that she could trace the lettering and found the stone warm to the touch. The word was already waiting in her heart, as though it had been waiting there patiently all along. Another piece of the puzzle slotting neatly into place, another part of herself she’d never known existed. And with it, a warning.

_Something’s coming._

She wrenched her hand away from the stone and spun around, drawing her katana as the first of the dragons burst through the ice in a shower of ice shards. The second followed an instant later, and they wheeled in the sky overhead, the sun glimmering on copper scales chased with gold.

 _Voslaarum and Naaslaarum_ , Corinne thought. The names seemed to emerge from inside her, along with a feeling of recognition, as if she’d known them both a very long time ago. Perhaps she had.

Serana’s forearms were already warded and rippling with the smoking mist of extreme cold. "This’ll be fun," she said drily, as the larger dragon – Voslaarum – flew past, almost lazily sending a blast of fire their way. The flames played across the rocks, making the snow sizzle and melt.

Corinne danced backwards as she considered her growing selection of Shouts as a mage might consult a repository of spells. With two dragons, she figured, they could use an ally. A _big_ one.

She drew a breath and Shouted.

 **"Dur Neh Viir**."

The world split in two. The sky tore like the fabric of a fine silk gown revealing the contrasting lining beneath. Sickly bruise-black purple bled into the perfect ceaseless blue. And judging by how quickly he emerged, it was as if Durnehviir had been waiting patiently on the other side for just this moment. Considering how bleak and desolate the Soul Cairn was, it was more than possible he’d been doing exactly that. Corinne felt vaguely guilty at having taken so long to summon him as he dragged himself through from that particularly hellish pocket of Oblivion, his ragged wings folded backwards like a bat’s.

Serana raised her eyebrows. "That’s something I thought I’d never see," she murmured as Durnehviir’s head swung towards them. The ground rumbled as he spoke.

"I thank you for my freedom, Qahnaarin," the summoned dragon said, "however brief it may be."

Corinne stepped forward. Her throat still ached from the force of the Shout, but she raised her voice. "I beg a favour, Durnehviir, in return for calling you forth from the Soul Cairn! I ask that you fight by my side!"

Durnehviir turned to regard the twin dragons circling overhead. They had been keeping their distance, apparently wary at the turn in events, but it seemed unlikely to last. For a moment, Corinne faltered, uncertain whether Durnehviir might refuse to battle with his kin, or worse, side with them against her. Then he turned back.

"You honour me with this request, Qahnaarin. I would be glad to fight alongside you."

_Oh, thank the gods._

Voslaarum broke away from his brother and drew close enough to bellow a challenge. Durnehviir roared back, thrashing the rest of the way through the rip in the sky. His wings spread with a sound like a thunderclap, loud enough to make the ground shake, and the two dragons spiralled upwards, each searching for an opening. When Durnehviir seemed to make a clumsy turn, Voslaarum plunged in for the strike, but it was a feint on Durnehviir’s part, and he dropped like a stone, plunging some thirty years and easily evading Voslaarum’s attack. Thrown off balance, Voslaarum was left vulnerable, and Durnehviir went on the attack, gliding upwards and slamming into Voslaarum from below.

For a moment, Corinne was frozen in place, stunned by the sight of the two dragons clashing in mid-air. Then she heard Serana call out in warning, and she became aware of Naaslaarum bearing in on them.

"Here!" she yelled, darting sideways so that her shoulder slammed into Serana’s. In the instant before the dragon’s fire-breath enveloped them, she flung up a ward, bracing the wrist of her off-hand with her sword-arm. The flames slammed against the ward’s convex surface, spilling across it like liquid. And still it came, the pressure hammering against her arms, making the joints of her elbows scream in protest and rapidly depleting her magicka reserves.

In the instant before the ward failed and the breaching flames burnt them both to a crisp, the fire died. She released the ward in relief, staggering a couple of steps. Serana caught her, and they clung to each other, breathing in air that reeked of sulphur and the ebbing trace of spent magicka.

But not for long.

"Look out!" Serana cried.

Durnehviir and Voslaarum were still locked in combat, and the battle was coming their way. Corinne ducked, avoiding a lashing tail, which knifed through the air so close its barbs might have taken off her head had it not been for Serana’s warning.

The two dragons broke apart and circled each other like cats, searching for an opportunity. Corinne watched them, her gaze darting between them and Naaslaarum, who had flown so far she might have taken him for a bird of prey. When she tried to track his movements directly the sun seared her eyes, but she suspected he’d turned, and would be on them soon enough.

Without warning, Voslaarum flew at Durnehviir, barking a Shout which Corinne did not know, and the two dragons collided, tumbling end over end and slamming into the cliff face, sending down an avalanche of ice shards with the impact.

_Get ready._

In the distraction of the spectacle, Naaslaarum had banked, and was flying back towards them at pace. Corinne shrugged off her bearskin cloak and let it drop. She suspected he was readying himself to finish this with another surging river of fire, and she lacked the magicka reserves to ward off another such sustained blast.

As Naaslaarum approached she advanced to meet him, moving out onto the ice, flexing her grip on the hilt of the katana in an attempt to calm her skittering heart. The air crackled with the cold clean energy of Destruction magic as Serana flung everything she had at him, and a wash of warm reeking air played over Corinne as the dragon settled into place above them. Readying herself to Shout once more, she reached for Dragonrend, bracing herself against the _wrongness_ of it. Heat roiled off the dragon’s hide, warping the air around it. A little unnerving, given she was standing on ice above a lake that must have been the gods knew how deep to hide two such ancient dragons for so long.

In the instant that Naaslaarum reared back like a snake about to strike, Corinne Shouted. 

Dragonrend struck him with the force of flying into solidly built Imperial fortifications at full speed, and he staggered in mid-air with an agonised bellow. Corinne fought against the backwash of shame that flooded her. It was an evil thing, Dragonrend, and only seemed more so with each dragon whose soul she absorbed. She hated how it made every part of her writhe with revulsion.

Naaslaarum flew upwards, circling away, and Serana chased him with spears of ice that pierced his copper hide. Corinne shifted her grip on the katana, readying herself for the moment Naaslaarum was forced to land, shaken by the experience of being introduced to his own mortality.

Except he didn’t land. Instead, he folded up his wings and plunged towards the frozen lake, not far from where Corinne stood, alone and vulnerable out on the ice.

_Shit._

Too late to make a break for firmer ground.

She gathered what was left of her magicka, and cast a Waterbreathing enchantment on herself, scant seconds before Naaslaarum smashed through the ice. She had barely enough time to register the moment of searing agony in her neck as the skin split open to form gills before the less-than-solid ground beneath her gave way. For a second or two she was on her knees scrabbling for purchase on a tilting island of ice, then she plunged into the freezing water.

It poured in through her new-formed gills, flooding her throat, and her lungs howled in open rebellion, her body unused to the sensation of having gills and not at all happy about it. Then something large surged through the water nearby, and the crushing pain in her chest was forgotten as the tip of the dragon’s wing skimmed her face. She grabbed it and let herself be pulled along, kicking to propel herself through the water. 

When Naaslaarum banked to the left, she collided with his side, and clung on for dear life, pressing her face against his scales as he swam deeper. His body gave off heat, a considerable amount but not quite enough to warm the water to a comfortable temperature. It was still cold enough to shock her body into giving up fighting the gills, so if nothing else at least she was getting air. Not much of a silver lining, but right now she’d be grateful for anything she got.

Panic flared again as the dragon zigzagged, trying to shake her off.

 _Not like it’s the first time you’ve ridden a dragon,_ she told herself, the thought almost drowned out by internal screaming.

Naaslaarum barrelled upwards in an attempt to slam her against the underside of the ice, but while the impact was jarring she didn’t hit the ice directly and managed to cling on, gripping the katana as she inched upwards, closer to the dragon’s throat.

The cold was sapping her strength. Her fingers had already gone numb and the current of the water, not to mention the way the dragon kept twisting and rolling like a sea serpent, threatened to rip the sword from her failing grip. If she dropped it now, it would be lost forever, and it had belonged to her father: it was irreplaceable.

She encircled her free arm around the dragon’s sinewy neck, almost blinded by the rage that rolled off him in waves. Keeping the blade as flat as she could alongside the dragon’s neck, she brought it into position.

The resistance of the water rendered her attempt at a killing blow a slow, dishonourable act of butchery. She had to use all her strength to force the point between the tender scales at Naaslaarum’s throat, and then, once it was lodged there, all her weight to force it in. He bucked, a frantic spasm that passed along his entire length, and threw her off.

Her scream exploded out of her in a surge of bubbles. She clenched her fist tight around the hilt, and it anchored her as she swung free, weightless and disoriented and with no idea which way was up and which way down. She dangled for a moment, clinging on for dear life, and then the dragon jinked right and she slammed back against his hide. Gripping the rough frill of spines at the base of Naaslaarum’s skull, she wrenched the katana around, twisting it deeper into his throat. And this, finally, was the death blow. 

Naaslaarum bucked, his howl of pain battering against her ears. She bared her teeth and hauled her katana free.

It caught on bone. The snap of the blade felt like her own arm breaking. Her hand came away, clutching the hilt.

In the midst of Naaslaarum’s death spasms, she was shaken free again. She saw the surface of the lake through the coils of the dragon’s tail, the ice like a pane of gold-coloured glass. She struck upwards towards it.

She’d barely got a few feet before the dragon soul hit her with full force. She forgot herself, choking on a lungful of water as the soul of the dragon she’d just slain filled her to over-brimming, and when she came back to herself, she was sobbing, hair loose and drifting about her like waterweed. The dragon’s coils had snagged on her clothes and were pulling her gently downwards. She tugged herself free, and kicked upwards towards the surface, panicked now. She was running out of time.

The pressure in her chest had increased to a steady scream of pain by the time she reached the underside of the ice and clawed against it, searching for the hole through which she and the dragon had entered the water. Her neck burned as the gills began to seal up once more. She couldn’t breathe, had little more than moments before she passed out from lack of air.

A shadow darkened the ice.

To Corinne when she looked back on this moment in the months to come, it would seem as if Serana had reached down, gripped her by the armpits, and hauled her out into a world of light and air, and all without breaking the ice.

But that was impossible of course.

* * *

They made camp near the base of the cliffs. Serana retrieved the ewer, which had thankfully been undisturbed by the fight, and lodged it safely against the rocks. Corinne sat shivering by the fire, wrapped in her bear-skin cloak, her clothes left by the fire to dry.

The world was darkening to twilight, and she’d be grateful for the moment night fell and the world darkened enough that she couldn’t see the flesh-shriven bones of Voslaarum’s skeleton any longer. Durnehviir had slain him with Serana’s aid and she wondered if that killing had wounded him as deeply as killing Naaslaarum had hurt her. Gods, when would it end? How many more of her kin would she be forced to destroy? And why the hell couldn’t they all just leave her be?

The hilt of her father’s broken sword lay on the ground before her, and in her shaken state it felt every inch the insult to her father’s memory that it was. Knowing that her father wouldn’t have had it any other way wasn’t much consolation. By all rights it should have been at Cloud Ruler Temple, on display with those of the Blades who had gone before him. It should never have been hers.

She’d never seen Cloud Ruler Temple at the height of its glory, but she’d seen Sky Haven Temple, the isolated and long-abandoned Akaviri-built fortress of the Blades in Skyrim, its gates sealed until the long-awaited return of a Dragonborn. It wasn’t until she’d knelt and spilled her blood and the gates had actually parted for her that she’d truly started to believe she was Dragonborn.

And then she’d stepped over the threshold and seen the intricate stonework and staircases polished by countless feet before hers. She’d seen the way the prophetic carvings of Alduin’s Wall had seemed to come to life as the torchlight played across them, and had wandered through overgrown gardens filled with wild rambling roses and the scent of trees overlaiden with blossom. She’d seen it all and knew she’d finally come home.

It was all she’d ever wanted, to be a Blade as her father had been, and his father before him, and his mother before him, all the way back to her ancestors who had first arrived in Tamriel, the source of the Akaviri blood in her veins, the source of her rare dark eyes.

And now she was no longer welcome there.

When Delphine had ordered her to kill Paarthurnax, Corinne had barely been able to understand what she meant. She’d been too stunned by the sight of the Wall and the message it bore, that the world was ending and it was her responsibility as Dragonborn to stop that from happening. At first she’d wanted to laugh, and only gradually had understanding begun to dawn.

Her first instinct was to refuse. She’d sat and communed with Paarthurnax, the ancient leader of the Greybeards, secluded at the peak of the Throat of the World, above even High Hrothgar, the Greybeards’ monastery. She could never have defeated Alduin without his aid, and she considered him an ally, perhaps even a friend.

The only thing Corinne knew for certain was that she’d have a decision to make when she returned to Skyrim, and one with no good solution: either way it was going to break her heart. She thought she’d known the answer, but when she’d absorbed the souls of the twin dragons, she’d glimpsed something of what Paarthurnax had once been capable of through their eyes and it had shaken her certainty. It was like that moment underwater, when she’d lost track of which way was up.

She no longer knew what was _right_.

"It’s a shame about the sword," Serana said quietly, sitting on the hide beside her. She’d removed the outer layer of her ornate leather armour, stripping down to her plum-coloured linen undershirt and sturdy twill braies, and the scent that clung to her was a strange one, similar to human sweat, but darker, with an undercurrent of metal and spice. Not an unpleasant smell, by any means. Quite the opposite.

"It belonged to my father," Corinne said and took up the hilt, studying the Akaviri design, the linen wrap stained yellow with years of sweat and use. Holding it steadied her a little; it felt like a prayer or a ritual, like stone worn smooth with years of repetition. "It might be for the best. It was never supposed to be mine."

"I’m sorry," Serana said. "Were you close?"

She shook her head, shivering. Serana hesitated, then wrapped her arm around Corinne’s back. Corinne leaned against her in search of warmth and comfort. She found plenty of one, but not so much of the other.

"We never had the chance to be," she said. "I was just a child when the war broke out, and the destruction of Cloud Ruler Temple consumed him. I wish we’d had the chance to be closer, but in the meantime I can do my best to honour his memory and take this to Sky Haven Temple. And then..." She sighed, setting the hilt down. " _Then_ I’ll have to come to a decision. And I’m afraid whatever choice I make will be the wrong one."

"That’s true of every choice we make," Serana pointed out. "Especially the important ones."

Corinne nodded, frowning. "You know," she said, "my father used to tell me my ancestors were Akaviri. They used to say the earliest Blades, Reman Cyrodiil’s Akaviri Dragonguard, had vampiric blood."

Serana smiled, shaking her head. "Take it from me, you’re no vampire."

"No? What’s absorbing the soul of a dragon, after all, but a kind of vampirism? At least you don’t have to kill to feed."

Serana leaned in closer still, and pressed her temple against Corinne’s. "I know I never knew your father," she said quietly, "but I’m sure he would have been proud of you, vampiric blood or not."

They fell silent for a long time, their temples pressed together.

Gradually Corinne began to become aware of Serana’s hand at the edge of the bearskin, how her fingers were resting gently against Corinne’s neck, skin to skin. A fire kindled in Corinne’s belly, flooding her with warmth of a very different kind, and she became suddenly, sharply aware of her nakedness beneath the cloak. Her skin prickled with sensation, the fur brushing against her arms and the slope of her breasts, and the rougher kiss of the hide against the underside of her thighs.

Corinne hesitated for a long moment, before she threw open the cloak and wrapped it around Serana’s back, so that they were both embraced in its warmth. They pressed close and her heart began to beat faster. She wondered if Serana could hear it, and if so whether she guessed something of what it meant. Her cheeks burned at the thought. She might have put it down to the heat of the fire had she been a little less exhausted and therefore more prepared to lie to herself.

Serana turned her head and met Corinne’s eyes. "You know, I can see it," she said, with a faint note of curiosity in her voice. "Your Akaviri blood." She reached up and traced Corinne’s cheekbone with her thumb, and Corinne held her gaze, her heartbeat pulsing fast as a bird’s.

Slowly, Serana curled her fingers around the back of Corinne’s head, and pulled her in for a tentative kiss, her mouth barely parted. Corinne felt the tentative flicker of a tongue against her lips, and she returned the kiss, matching Serana’s caution, as if they were each afraid the other might startle and baulk. And it ended too soon, leaving her flushed and hungry for more, wishing she’d responded with a bit more urgency. Serana, naturally, appeared as flawlessly unperturbed as ever, not even the slightest bit dishevelled.

"I’m feeling a little warmer," Corinne said.

"Well, good. We can’t have you freezing to death." Serana grimaced. "I only wish I had more body heat to give. I’m doing a terrible job getting you warmed up."

"You’re doing alright," she said hoarsely. "Try kissing me again. That might help."

Serana laughed and tugged her back in for another kiss. This one was harder, open-mouthed and hungry, and after a few minutes of that they fell back on the bed roll, tugging the cloak over them to shut out the chill night air. Corinne’s legs fell open and Serana nestled between them. Her undershirt was made of the finest linen, but still it seemed to brush roughly against Corinne’s skin, against her belly and nipples, and the constant contact sent shivers of arousal through her.

It was strange: although Serana was fully dressed save for her armour, and Corinne was naked, she didn’t feel the slightest twinge of vulnerability, not even when Serana brought her mouth to the hollow of Corinne’s throat, teasing the tender skin there with kisses and the flicker of her tongue.

 _She’s tasting me._ Corinne shivered at the thought, at the notion that Serana could somehow taste her blood through her skin. She supposed she ought to feel frightened, but Serana was kissing her way downward along her collarbone and the sensations were exquisite. Serana found her breast and cupped it, circling her nipple with a feather-light touch, making it stiffen and pucker. Her amber eyes darted up to meet Corinne’s, then she lowered her open mouth over the nipple, her lips not quite closing around it. And there she waited, motionless until Corinne gave a soft pleading moan. Even then she only flicked her tongue against the very tip, but it was still enough to make Corinne gasp and arch her back, pressing her breasts towards Serana, moaning, " _Please._ "

Serana closed her lips and sucked, the work of her tongue sending sparks of pleasure jolting through Corinne. The cold she’d felt earlier, back when she’d been so certain she’d never be able to get warm again, was forgotten, and instead she was beset by sensation, the fire’s heat mingling with the cold kiss of the air and Serana caressing her breasts, moving from one to the other, and occasionally rising up for a kiss.

Serana’s leg pressed between Corinne’s, the thick fabric rough against her inner thighs, and seeking further contact, she opened her legs wider, spreading them until the muscles in her thighs ached, and gods, it was too much. She was wet with desire and eager to celebrate being alive in the bloodrush aftershock of almost dying, and it had been too damn long; once she’d started to move her hips, the rapidly building pleasure was impossible to fight. She couldn’t have pulled away if she’d wanted to and she _didn’t_ damn well want to, so instead, she dropped her head back and ground herself to a frantic, gasping peak against Serana’s thigh.

It took her a moment to recover, even more flushed than before. And Serana, naturally, was as flawless as ever and looking faintly amused.

"Still cold?"

"It’s a chilly night," Corinne said breathlessly, her heart still hammering. Then they were kissing again, and she was tearing at Serana’s sweat-dampened shirt, ripping at the ties with clumsy fingers until she gave up and yanked it up and over Serana’s head instead.

Serana’s breasts were as pale and perfect as the rest of her, aside from her nipples which were dark and stiff with arousal and the cold. Corinne turned her attention to Serana’s braies, while Serana ran her fingers through her hair, twining the strands around her fingers, a gentle caress. While she was unlacing the braies, Corinne leaned forward and drew a nipple into her mouth, noting in the calm after the storm of her climax, how strangely cool Serana’s skin was.

Serana raised her hips to allow Corinne to pull her braies down. Her underthings followed, and then Corinne gently pushed Serana’s legs apart. She was already wet, and Corinne felt a powerful rush of desire as she marvelled at the thought that Serana was slick with arousal purely from watching Corinne come. She could feel her own dampness on her inner thighs, and her skin tingled with the memory of the linen against her skin and the promise of further pleasure.

She lowered her mouth between Serana’s thighs. She tasted exactly as Corinne had always imagined she would, a dark iron-rich taste that made Corinne ache, and while her skin was cooler than a living woman’s, here she burned just as hot as any woman Corinne had encountered. She was so wet Corinne’s fingers slid inside her with ease, even as her lips and tongue sought out the bud at the front of Serana’s cleft, teasing it first with delicate care, then, guided by the movements of Serana’s hips and her soft cries of pleasure, a little harder. When she sucked it between her lips, Serana gave a ragged cry, hips arching upwards. She seemed torn between grinding herself against Corinne and holding still to allow Corinne to wring every drop of pleasure out of her, and finally she compromised, placing her hands on the back of Corinne’s head to guide her movements, while Corinne’s fingers twisted in slow caressing circles inside her, working against the tender spot which would render her pleasure all that much more exquisite when she came.

Corinne’s own arousal was growing more urgent. Her first climax had been so frantic and driven by need she’d barely had the chance to appreciate it until it was over, and her own sex was wet and ready and aching. She balanced awkwardly on her elbow and slipped her left hand down between her legs, rubbing at herself with clumsy unpractised movements.

Serana noticed the movement, and lifted her head to see what she was doing. She groaned at the sight. "Shift around," she began to insist. "Let me–" And then Corinne hit a spot inside her, and her words broke off into a breathy cry. "Gods, that’s… _Oh_." Corinne eased off, grinning, and in that brief moment of respite, Serana managed to say, "Quick. Let me taste you."

Willingly, Corinne pulled her fingers free and wriggled around to allow Serana access. Serana drew the flat of her tongue along the length of Corinne’s cleft, a slow and teasing progress that was finished off with a little flick at the bud, which made Corinne groan in frustrated desire, then while Corinne dropped her head back down, Serana began to explore, palpitating her fingers at Corinne’s entrance rather than sliding them inside. Somehow that caress seemed to work Corinne’s deeper muscles without any direct contact, and a molten pleasure flooded the pit of her belly. She thought Serana could probably make her come purely like this, with nothing but the gentle dabbling of her fingers and the play of her cool breath on over-heated skin.

Corinne raised her head, her eyes hooded with desire, and heard herself say, "You can bite me if you want."

It was the wrong thing to say. Serana’s fingers went still, and a cold sensation settled over Corinne’s skin. "I only meant–"

"It’s okay," Serana said quickly. "I don’t… It’s not that I don’t want to, because I do… but mixing blood and sex? Generally not a good idea. Not with humans anyway."

Corinne closed her eyes, cheeks burning. "I shouldn’t have asked."

"It’s okay. You’re not the first to ask, put it like that."

"Am I forgiven?"

Serana let out a sigh. "Always."

Carefully, tentatively, Corinne began to caress her again, running her tongue around the folds of Serana’s sex. In response, Serana slipped two fingers inside her, and despite what she’d said, it seemed the offer had kindled some new and urgent hunger inside her because she was no longer gentle. She thrust her fingers deep inside Corinne’s channel and crooked them as she slid them out, so that with every thrust they rubbed against the front of her cleft, driving her closer to the brink. It was exquisite, and made it virtually impossible for Corinne to practise on her own technique, particularly when Serana joined her fingers with her tongue.

It was Corinne who came first, clamping her thighs tight around Serana’s face. As her peak hit, she closed her lips around Serana’s bud and sucked gently on it, and the pressure drove Serana over the edge too. They shuddered into their respective climaxes, then collapsed, panting. After a moment, Corinne pulled herself up for a kiss, tasting herself on Serana’s lips

Serana held out her arm and Corinne nestled into the crook of her elbow, tugging the cloak back over the two of them. They lay there for a moment, recovering and gazing up at the sky, the pin-pricks of light that seemed so much clearer and sharper than they had in Skyrim. The vale felt so isolated and cut-off from the rest of the province, it seemed strange that it should share the same constellations, as if it was not truly a place in Mundus but a pocket of Oblivion. A beautiful one, and she was suddenly desperately grateful that she had Serana to share this long, strange journey with.

She’d been travelling on her own for so long, she’d almost forgotten what it was like to have an ally, someone she could rely on in battle without having to fear for their life, and she was glad that, of all the people she could have forged that bond with, it had been with Serana, as reluctant as Corinne had been at first to travel with a vampire. She envied Serana her ability to stand steadfast against the torrent of history, no matter how changed the world had become in all the time she’d been locked away.

"Let’s stay here," she said. "You and me. We need never go back to Skyrim."

"Don’t tempt me," Serana said. "But my father’s still out there, and someone has to stop him. Besides something’s telling me I’m the only one with unfinished business."

"Yeah, I know. It’s a nice thought, though, isn’t it?" She sighed. "I was naive enough to think that when I defeated Alduin that’d be it, but there’s always something."

"I don’t know. After being locked underground for centuries, I kind of like having something to do."

"At least you got to have a rest," Corinne said, and grinned when Serana poked her.

"Well," Serana said, when they’d settled down, "maybe when this is all over, we could go away somewhere."

"Like?"

"I don’t know. Solstheim?"

" _Ha_."

"Cyrodiil, then. I think I’d like to see your home town. Or maybe Hammerfell or Blackmarsh."

"Hmm. You know, Solstheim aside, I can’t help but notice your list of places you’d like to visit seems to consist almost entirely of places which are warmer than Skyrim."

"It’s a coincidence. _Everywhere’s_ warmer than Skyrim."

Corinne laughed, and nestled in closer, her eyes half-closing as Serana stroked her hair. The heat from the fire was scorching her cheeks, and Serana’s body was cool against hers. It should have been unnerving, but instead it was an extraordinarily pleasant sensation, mitigating the heat of the flames.

"Serana?" she murmured. "Could I ask you a question?"

"Mm?"

"I don’t suppose you ever got around to reading _Immortal Blood_?"

There was a moment’s pause, then Serana spoke, her voice cautious. "Sorine lent me a copy. Why?"

"There’s a bit in it about the Volkihar, about how they live beneath the ice and freeze their victim’s blood in their veins." _And how they ambush their victims by reaching up through the ice without breaking it,_ she thought, but didn’t say.

"Corinne." Serana shifted to look at her. "It’s a work of fiction. You’ve seen my family’s castle. It’s not under the ice. And okay, the freezing my victims bit is kind of accurate, but that’s just magic."

"Right. Only..."

"Only what?"

"Only how did you get me out from under the ice without falling into the water yourself?"

In response, Serana kissed her, a deep and passionate kiss that more than adequately stifled any further questions she might have had. Corinne melted into it, and once again the kiss was over too soon for Corinne’s liking. Clearly Serana still had some secrets, but that was all right: so did Corinne.

Serana cupped her cheek, and gazed into her eyes. "I’m glad it was you that found me," she said with feeling.

"I know. Can you imagine if Isran had sent _Durak_?"

"I’m pretty sure if he had, I’d be dead. Durak’s not nearly as much of a soft touch as you are."

"I always was a fool for a pretty face," Corinne said.

Serana smiled. If she’d been human, Corinne thought, she might even have flushed.


End file.
